


Let It Bleed

by antumbral



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antumbral/pseuds/antumbral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every bullet is a beat, and damned if that's not the rhythm of Spike's life. Spike and Vicious, trapped in an alley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Bleed

**Author's Note:**

> I'm reposting older work that I've done, so that it will have somewhere to live that's not LJ. This was originally written for porn_battle over at IJ, originally posted [here](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/porn_battle/5443.html). For the prompt "Spike and Vicious, before Julia".

“Shit, Spike!” Vicious’s voice, low and shard-sharp amidst the spackle of gunfire. “Shit, fuck, don’t fall down. C’mon, gonna get you outta here, stay on your feet. Stay on your feet, dammit!”  


Hard hands yanked the back of his duster coat and he stumbled with the force, hearing the pit-pit of bullets like some bizarre dance. _Pit_ , and he spun, squinted through the blood over his eyes. _Pit_ , aim, fire, _pit_ , as though he were merely playing his part in some cosmic music: Duet for Dreamer and Firearm.  


The rhythm slowed, _pit_ , aim, fire, and two beats before the next bullet, three. “Clear,” he shouted, then ducked under Vicious’s arm, checked for hidden enemies on their other side. Vicious was still aiming, taking out the last of the team that had ambushed them, but Spike wasn’t concerned. They were safe now, and he sat down hard in the alley, blood loss and adrenaline leaving his heart racing, still high on excitement.  


Two more spits of the gun and all was silent. Vicious stood above him, poised on the balls of his feet, flighty as a bird, listening. When nothing else moved in the alley, Vicious dropped down beside him and reached out to check the graze on his forehead, then the deeper wound over his ribs.  


“You dumb fuck, I told you I’d get the high side, you had to go play the hero --“ Vicious’s voice droned on -- low syncopated murmur of comfort, and Spike tuned out, riding the euphoric aftermath of fear and the beginnings of shock. “--never should have let you come along, too important to have both of us in the same place anymore, Mao’s an idiot for you, lets you have your way when you give him those big brown eyes, _dammit_ , Spike--“  


“You look like a painting when you double fist those pistols,” Spike said, and that shut Vicious up abruptly. Dark eyes went large, flare of nostrils, hard intake of breath, but Spike ignored signals that for others would be danger and fisted a hand in silver hair, tugged. “Hot,” he murmured over Vicious’s mouth, barely a more than a breath to shape the words. It wasn’t even really a kiss, just a brush of open lips, dove-wing light and intense, sure.  


Vicious drove himself up hard, striking like a snake uncoils, pushing into the kiss, pressing Spike first up then back into the dust and broken glass of the alley. His fists landed at either side of Spike’s head, his body on top of Spike’s to grind down with hips and chest. Neither noticed the blood from knuckles or head wound slippery on the dirt.  


Spike threw his head back and the sudden pressure was all that he needed to come, startling, shocking and electric as gunfire. Vicious bit into his lips and gasped apologies into his neck, panting, ” _Sorry, sorry--_ “ and coming with him, all deep writhing growls and hisses into Spike’s skin.  


There wasn’t a moment of pause after, just Vicious, gathering him up to lean on one arm and stumble back towards their van together. Around them, the alley moved again, scutter of rats and explosion of birds into flight. On the street (check both ways, clear, _clear_ , no one left alive enough to be afraid of) the morning opened around them, golden and bleeding, like the first blush of a rose not yet old enough to unfurl.  
  



End file.
